


Senza : Omission

by thevictorinox



Series: Senza: Decrescendo [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-04 23:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevictorinox/pseuds/thevictorinox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a sensation of elation one experiences before a fall; that weightless moment before they meet the rise of the earth, where everything is bliss, and for a few precious seconds, gravity forgets it’s interaction with the human body. The golden moment.</p>
<p>The first was when he had a happy marriage, a new baby and fresh promotion to Detective Sergeant. Everything had been perfect until it wasn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Senza : Omission

There is a sensation of elation one experiences before a fall; that weightless moment before they meet the rise of the earth, where everything is bliss, and for a few precious seconds, gravity forgets it’s interaction with the human body. The golden moment.

The first was when he had a happy marriage, a new baby and fresh promotion to Detective Sergeant. Everything had been perfect until it wasn’t. It started with a small chain of events that tumbled into one mess. His inspector was killed by a stray bullet, his wife got into a minor car accident and his father was diagnosed with cancer. Luckily, his father went in to remission, the accident ended with a scrapped fender and the grief of loosing a fellow officer lessened over time.

The second was was just before his wife divorced him.

The third and fourth where when he had been on the wrong end of a Serial Killer’s blade. 

Eventually, the scars healed, the pain had weakened.  However, the anxiety remained, and it was something that the now-D.I. would carry with him to the grave. 

So when his life had settled into some semblance of good, he spent it suspended in the air, waiting for to plummet to earth. He knew it would happen, what could he expect? There was a resignation to uncertainty that one had signed up for when they were living with Sebastian Moran. 

It didn’t make the shock any less jarring, or the worry and more tempered. Dating Sebastian Moran was like walking in to a mine field. It didn’t matter how careful one was to avoid all the traps and sensors, things were bound to explode.

Usually, it had been small things, tiny things really.  Some evidence turned up that couldn’t be connected to it’s case.  Lestrade hearing of a hit on his head, and a subsequent disappearance. Coming home to a man with a broken finger, a bruised rib. Hell, even half of Greg’s wine stock , mysteriously vanishing. Most of the time it caused him concern, sometimes annoyance, but on a few occasions it would start a fight. 

They say never go to bed angry, but he did, and he woke up angry, went to work angry, the thing is, Greg didn’t realize how “angry” could change one’s life. And when he went to work that day he didn’t expect the mine field to come to him and the rapid descent downward to be in the form of a plain-clothes Sebastian stumbling into his office, side soaked in red.

“H-Hey Sunshine.” The voice snapped Greg’s attentions away from his paperwork and up to the man who had less sat on his couch as straight away collapsed in to it. It was enough for Greg to be up and rounding his desk before he realized he had told his body to move. 

“Jesus, Seb.”  He leaned into the hallway. “If you haven’t realized by now, I need an ambulance!” He yelled before ducking back in and crouching beside the younger man. “What in the hell happened to you?”  It earned him an annoyed smile that Seb often reserved for times when Greg worried too much or was being too nosy. However, Sebastian none-the-less, complied.

“J-Jim found out. He figured it out finally.” It took Greg a moment to understand what Sebastian was saying.

“Wait…he didn’t know?” Sebastian snorted as if offended.

“ _Of course not_. He doesn’t know about my family, let alone the bloke I’ve been shagging for the past two years.”

“So you decide to come here?” 

“I thought he’d go after you.” Once again Sebastian’s disdain for Greg seemingly ignoring the obvious was dripping through his tone. Greg responded with a heavy roll of his eyes.

“Oh you _idiot_ …you’re supposed to go be safe somewhere, find me later. I can take care of myself.” He was again met with a look of irritation.

“Clearly you’ve done a brilliant Job with that…S-Sunshine.” Sebastian’s hand raised, pressing a palm to Greg’s chest, over the scars that were hidden beneath his button-down.  Greg tried to ignore the terror that struck through him when the fabric was stained red.

“Oh stow it.” He said, peeling away the shirt to get a better look at the decimated flesh, panic ripped through his veins anew. “Christ. Is this buck shot?”

“He apparently filled the shot gun barrel with glass and anything else around….p-probably for the best, h-he didn’t have time t-to plan.” 

“Hush, no more talking, you’re bleeding too much.” Greg rose to his feet. “AMBULANCE NOW” 

“This is why I never call them….bloody use…useless.” He waved his hand dismissively. Greg glanced back. It finally registered to him how pale Sebastian was, how sluggish, and slow the normally graceful man’s movements were.

Greg felt the noose around his own neck. He swallowed and gathered himself. 

“Oh no. You don’t get to talk remember.” He knelt down again and tugged hard on the flannel shirt, the buttons gave way easily, skittering off to he didn’t care where. Greg had to physically stop himself from sucking in a breath upon getting a second look at the wound. It was bad, no, it was downright awful. Greg was no doctor, he could apply compresses and stick on plasters but this, this was out of his depth. Where the fuck was John Watson when he was needed?  Greg leaned over the wound, not sure if he should pick out the glass or leave it, he knew he couldn’t apply pressure unless he did.

He would have to chance it. 

The world closed down and shrunk in to nothing but his office, where His fingers worked quickly, pulling shards of god only knows out of the other man’s side, tossing it idly to the floor. Never mind he wasn’t wearing gloves. Never mind there was a hoard of people gathered outside his door, watching, struck, as Greg Lestrade forced himself through his fear into saving what they just thought was a criminal’s life. 

And finally the last piece that he could see was now staining his carpet, Greg was tearing apart the flannel to wind around the man’s torso, his fingers frantic and twitching, slipping through the knots as they were slick with blood.  Sebastian was still, eyes closed as he often was when allowing Greg to treat him, the only sign of life was breathing, so shallow that Greg unconsciously leaned to listen for the next. When he had done all he could and all that was left was to wait, Greg kept one hand on the wound and the other laced in the long fingers across Seb’s chest. 

“You’re shaking Sunshine…” The voice was thin, cracking. The waver gripped choked Greg. 

“S-Sorry…no good with blood.” 

“Y-You make a terrible liar.” 

“Yea, well, you look like shit right now so none of that…” He tried to have strength in his voice. 

“Still….much better than that time….I dragged…your sorry arse home from that shite Yank pub. Wrong end…of a mule.” He slurred out the words, the lack of blood in his veins to bring oxygen to his brain made the rest of his functioning weak. Even the smile on his face looked wrong without the light in his eyes.  Greg tried to manage a laugh but it came out as something strangled. 

“Sebastian… I-“

“Oh no…. You d-don’t get to pull that soft feelings b-bullocks on me…not when I’m trapped here…” Sebastian’s words forced past a struggle of breath. “And…don’t…you… fucking cry….either.” The growl that the younger man try to push into his words died on his lips.   
  
“You want to order me about? Then fine. But you can’t control me if you’re dead you Bastard…so….” _So don’t die. For god’s sake don’t die._  

“Greg-“

“No. No, Don’t call me that. Call me any of your ridiculous condescending pet-names for me…but don’t call me that-“

“Shut up, Greg.” He managed. “Just….shut up…and fucking…. listen.”

Greg leaned in close as Sebastian Moran uttered his last words. He confessed no sins, made no promises, issued no threats. He quietly told Greg the code to the lock box tucked in their box-spring where he would find a manilla envelope. After that there was a number for Marco James that Greg was to call, he’d know what to do, give him the envelope. Then, for god’s sake, change your clothes before you go home, the dog will panic. Lastly, put me in the ground, or cremate me and ship it to some where, any where in India, but don’t make a production of it, and don’t bloody cry, if you think you have to, just go drink instead.

Never once, was the word “love” ever said. 

It would be an omission. Until the very end.


End file.
